The Summer Has Darker Shadows
by Cabbitshivers
Summary: Both of the Bakura's are sick, when Malik, oh so slightly odd Malik, comes across them and offers to... help? - MxYB
1. Darker Shadows: The Sickness

Malik x Bakura

**THE SUMMER HAS DARKER SHADOWS**

I - _The Sickness_

* * *

The Ring flashed. 

It was the second time it had done so within the last ten minutes. The first flash it had released had been when the hikari that bore the artefact had collapsed, his knees caving to carry him to the floor, his face dotted with sweat and his breath coming in rapid, short pants. This time it was in response to the yami, who had earlier emerged from the Ring in a mixture of curiosity and worry and had taken control of the body, believing himself to have a higher tolerance to such things that could ail his hikari. He had been mistaken.

Yet again the ring flashed. The yami, unprepared for the full force of the sickness that had taken hold within his host's body, had begun to be affected by it and had almost been borne to the floor as well. He now leaned heavily against the wall in the hallway, feeling the heat in his body growing steadily higher, panting and concentrating on trying to make the heavy gold ring he wore over his chest bring the fever down. Common sense and past experiences told him that fevers were dangerous, that during them all of the fluids were sweated out of the body until it could no longer work and the body died. He knew that by allowing such a thing to happen he could ultimately doom himself and the other soul which shared this body with him. This was why he was currently wracking his mind for anything he could remember his hikari saying about fevers. He could recall his hikari taking some sort of medicine when he had a headache, which made it go away rather quickly. It was a white pebble of powder, and it had been in some sort of box in the kitchen. If there were any left maybe they could help with the vicious pounding that was going on behind his eyes.

Bracing one arm against the wall, he began to manoeuvre himself down the hallway to the kitchen. He was somewhat pleased that his hikari hadn't collapsed upstairs; he doubted that he would have been able to handle trying to get down the huge stairwell. After what felt like minutes, and probably was, he managed to drag himself into the kitchen and over to the fridge where he remembered that his hikari used to put all of the medicines onto. He reached around on top of the white appliance, locating the plastic storage container and pulling it down. Inside there were a few packages of things, but the box that he remembered the headache pills to be in was missing. Then he recalled that his hikari had been moaning earlier that week about not having anymore para-something left. The headache pills started with the letter 'p' he remembered. He mentally cursed his hikari, who was sleeping peacefully inside of his soul room, completely unaware of the fever that was consuming his body. **Their** body. Bakura was the one feeling the effects right now. It was so typical of the boy to forget something important. Well… usually Bakura wouldn't care, but right now it was important because they were in danger of losing their body. Stupid hikari.

Yami Bakura cursed again, aloud, and dropped the container onto the floor, spilling all of the other boxes and medicines onto the clean kitchen linoleum. Now he had to go shopping to find the right medicine. He really hated this modern time, with all its streetlights and security alarms. It made it very difficult to steal anything. Not to consider that in his current, nauseous state he wouldn't be able to pull of a steal in a way that would leave him without being caught. He had to actually **_buy_** something for once, and he wasn't quite sure how he should go about it. If there was one thing he liked, however, about the modern world his hikari lived in, it was that everything was easy to find. It was all kept in one place. Something adequately and appropriately called a 'Super Market'. Bakura knew that things could only be obtained there through the use of money, and that trade wasn't an acceptable method of purchasing any more. His hikari always kept money in his wallet, and his wallet was always in his back pocket, and sure enough Bakura could feel its edges pushing into his backside.

"Stupid hikari had to wear the tight jeans." He mumbled to himself as he headed towards the front door. He knew which direction he had to walk in to find the supermarket, and that it was barely five minutes away, but he was certain it would take him longer in his current state. His walk was more of a shuffle, and he tried not to turn his head too fast as it made his eyes feel as though they were rolling around in their sockets. All in all he felt uncomfortably close to throwing up, and he had no doubt in his mind that if his hikari still had control of their body he'd already be unconscious.

His hand was damp with sweat when he reached for the doorhandle, and his fingers slipped against the brass, making it difficult to turn it to open the door. He had to wipe his hands on his jeans before he could manage it.

The outside air was cool, which helped with his flaming skin, making it feel not so unbearable where his clothes kept brushing against him. It made it easier for him to focus, as well, and moving didn't seem quite as slow-going as it did when he was in the house. His stomach still jumped every other step, though, and he found himself putting pressure on it with his left hand after a few minutes. It seemed to help.

The supermarket appeared in front of him what felt like an hour later, but what was really just under ten minutes. It's bright red sign was abusive on his eyes, and the white lettering of it swum and shuddered, making it appear as though it were a large red television with an extreme case of ghosting. He blinked and averted his eyes. The sign had almost caused his body to bring up its last meal - if Ryou had even eaten today.

The automatic doors parted to allow him entrance, and he carefully walked into the store. It was late afternoon, and the store was busy with all of the school kids buying their junk food, and the parents who worked only school hours quickly grabbing the groceries for that evening's dinner. Bakura hardly paid them any heed. The most of them were moving too fast for him to keep an eye on, and the others were either standing in his way or milling annoyingly around the supermarket, no idea where they were going or what it was that they wanted. Normally Bakura would sneer and glare at such people, throwing a passingly rude comment their way, but right now he was just too damn tired. The walk to the supermarket had taken a lot more out of him that he'd expected. The Sen'nin Ring was lying heavily against his flushed, burning skin, glowing steadily now in an effort to calm the fever that was consuming his body. If he thought hard enough on it, it almost felt as though the Ring was growing lighter.

Glancing up at the aisle signs as he walked in front of the lines of check-outs, he kept searching for one that said 'Medicine' or something to that effect. He saw one that said 'Beauty Products, Healthcare, and Personal Hygiene' and thinking that that was close enough, chose to investigate that aisle.

After passing numerous flowery and decorated boxes that looked unfamiliar, and boxes of tissues that he had seen his hikari use almost constantly some weeks during the 'winter', he came across some shelves with boxes and containers similar to those that he'd seen in the container on top of the fridge. He started looking for the shiny blue box that contained the Para-whatsit stuff for the headache that had started to worsen once he had entered the store, and spying one that looked close to what he remembered, he snatched it up. His eyes weren't focussing right, and made reading the small writing too difficult to attempt. He just hoped it was the one he was looking for.

Just as he was about to leave the aisle he paused, considering. If there were pills that could be taken to get rid of headaches, perhaps there were ones that could be taken that would lower a fever. He shot his eyes over the rows of packages again, looking contemplatively at their covers and blurry lettering. It was bad enough that Japanese was his third language and his use of its written form was at the moment quite limited, but what made it worse was that he couldn't even **see** the katakana to make a guess. He was beginning to wonder if he should just buy whatever ones looked promising when he heard through the rushing of blood in his ears a footstep sound close behind him, and then a hand abruptly fell onto his shoulder.

He jumped, startled. The touch was unexpected, as was the presence of someone behind him, and he did not feel secure in any way that he had been unaware of them completely until the footstep had sounded. He turned too fast to face the intruder to his personal space that his already swimming vision spun alarmingly, and beneath his hand his stomach lurched with a violent heave. His throat clenched, as something burning tried to force its way up into his oesophagus. He felt the hand that he had shrugged off return to his shoulder to hold him steady. He felt as though his legs were going to drop him any moment. Beneath his shirt the Ring flashed and became just a little bit lighter. Abruptly, the nausea ebbed, and his vision cleared enough for him to focus his blurry eyes upon the person steadying him.

Pale amethyst eyes met his from within a darkly tanned face that smiled lazily down at him. They were lined with a black tattoo, with an odd half-triangle design at the outer edges. Bakura almost gasped when he recognized who it was.

"You alright?" The mocha-coloured lips asked him as the hand grasping his shoulder let go. The pale amethyst eyes had left his own and were now running over his aching body. "Do you need any help?"

Bakura bristled at the question, affronted that the insane Egyptian thought he looked needful, but in his current nauseous state his insulted attitude merely caused his face to flush further. His glare had lessened in power as well, looking more comical than threatening with his white, sweat-dampened hair hanging limply besides his thin face that was ghost-pale – except for a pair of big, red-rimmed eyes, reddened cheeks, and a red-tipped nose.

Malik's lips twisted in amusement. Bakura didn't look too thrilled at the question. He didn't look too good at all, really. He ran his eyes over the lanky form again, taking in his dishevelled, sweating state. He was breathing quite heavily, and he could hear the slight hitch in his breaths from where he was standing. It was obvious he was unwell. It was concerning, as well, that he could see a faint glowing from beneath Bakura's shirt that was most probably coming from the Sen'nin Ring. His eyes travelled back up to lock with Bakura's, who continued to stare at him. He stared right back, trying to infuse the look with reassurance. Trying to look benign, harmless, helpful.

It obviously wasn't working.

Bakura continued to look at him, most likely still attempting a glare, and Malik, realising that the independent Tomb Robber would like nothing less than to accept his help, made to turn away. A hand suddenly grasping at his arm and the weight of a body sagging against him stopped him, however. He reached out to steady the swaying body of the Yami, but was surprised by the spirit unexpectedly sinking down against him. Burning hot flesh pressed against his bare arms and throat, and a groan from the tomb robber assailed his ears.

"Stupid hikari." The spirit mumbled into his shoulder. "Can't even take care of his own body."

Malik smiled as he attempted to help right the sagging spirit. "Left you to it, huh?" he asked.

Bakura lifted his eyes to meet Malik's, and frowned. "No," He rasped out. "I took over. He wouldn't have made it here if he was in control. His tolerance to such things is low."

Malik nodded, recalling the small moment on the blimp when Bakura had relinquished his control over his hikari's body, allowing the lighter half of his soul to be glimpsed. If possible, the boy had an even slighter form than his yami, and had softer features too – though at the time he had seen them they were twisted in pain and confusion. Bakura had only allowed him to be in that state for a short amount of time, though it was enough for Malik to understand what Bakura was talking about.

"So what's wrong with your body?" Malik asked him.

Bakura lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Headache, fever, nausea. My back aches. My hikari had no medicines left. I've found the headache pills, but my eyes aren't working well enough for me to read what's on the other boxes."

Malik watched Bakura who carefully kept his gaze averted, as though he disliked admitting to any form of weakness. It was no surprise, really. Bakura struck Malik as a much closed sort of person, one of those that built walls and walls of defences around themselves, and then disguised them as battalion's of anger and attack. He looked down at the box in Bakura's hand.

"Panadeine, huh? Aspirin might be better for headaches, but both will reduce your fever. Your Ring's trying to bring it down, isn't it?"

Bakura nodded. "Yes. It's draining its power, though. There was only so much of it in there to start with. You have the Rod; you know that they work off of their hosts. If the body's sick, there's not much it can do. Especially if I'm the one who's in control."

Malik nodded. He walked over to one of the shelves and pulled down a flat blue box. He handed it to Bakura.

"This is the Disprin. It has aspirin in it. It's more specifically designed for headaches, so it might be better to take. If you're feeling like you're going to throw up, though, the Panadeine will be better. It doesn't upset your stomach like aspirin can." 1

Bakura looked at him suspiciously. "How do you know all this?"

Malik smiled and shrugged. "I've been out in this time a little more longer than you, I think. And Isis is nosy, so she finds out everything about anything that she can, and therefore becomes a very annoying, Malik-seeking Encyclopaedia. She got into trouble with the United States Government last month for prying too much into the building of nuclear weapons."

One of Bakura's white eyebrows rose at this. "That big country that runs everything? Did they send someone to kill her?"

"No. Just told her to stop. They didn't realize that she'd already found out everything the week before."

Bakura attempted to laugh, but instead began to sway dangerously. His eyes wandered all over the floor, as if unable to fix solidly on anything. Malik reached out a hand to steady him again. The heat emanating from the white haired spirits skin burned easily through his shirt, and Malik's eyebrows drew down into deep furrows.

"Perhaps you should go to a chemist as well." He said, watching with narrowed lavender eyes as Bakura's head dropped forwards and he struggled to maintain his balance. One of his pale hands was clutching at Malik's shoulder, the long fingers digging in deep in his effort to remain upright. "They sell stronger medicines, and your body seems to be very ill."

Bakura continued to sway in Malik's grip, but managed a small, dark laugh.

"Your suggestion is all well and good, _aysa_, but where in Hathor's ass is this 'chemist' you're talking about?" 2

Malik's smile showed teeth this time. "I doubt you'd be able to find it in your condition if I just **told** you where it is." He said, with a dark teasing note in his voice. Bakura however, was too busy trying to get his eyes to focus right to notice the looks of worry the blonde Egyptian tomb keeper was directing at him. "I will have to take you."

Bakura grunted at the decision. "Whatever." He said. He leaned a little heavier against Malik. "Can we just move? I don't feel like passing out in the middle of a supermarket."

Malik nodded and moved himself around to Bakura's side, grasping his elbow to help keep him steady. They walked slowly towards the checkouts, Bakura leaning partially against Malik's shoulder. He closed his eyes after the swirling of the linoleum at his feet made him feel disturbingly close to throwing up and found it less nauseating to allow Malik to lead him blind. It didn't even cross his mind that he was putting so much trust in the slightly psychotic hikari as he tried to even out his breathing. It passed through Malik's, though, and the dark-skinned boy couldn't keep the confusion and questions out of his gaze as he watched the white-haired yami allow him to take control.

"Do you have any money?" He asked as they reached the line of checkouts. Bakura lifted his head, opening his eyes a little and trying to fix them on the sluggishly moving face of Malik. The pupils were huge, dark, and swallowed up most of the crimson iris.

"What?" He asked.

"Do you have any money?" Malik repeated.

"Hm." Bakura replied, closing his eyes against the glare of the strobe lights. "Back pocket."

Malik cocked an eyebrow, a startled look passing briefly across his face, then a small smile twisted the edges of his lips and he reached further around Bakura, patting lightly at the others backside until he located which pocket the wallet was in. Dipping his fingers into the pocket, he resisted the urge to rub the burning skin he could feel through the denim, and plucked out the wallet before Bakura could accuse him of anything. The yami just let out a quiet breath and sagged against him further.

"Hey, don't fall asleep." Malik said, jiggling his shoulder a little to make Bakura move.

The yami grunted. "Do that again and I'll kill you." He said.

Malik allowed another small smile to grace his lips at that, then turned back to face a checkout operator when the man in front of them moved and she became free. He took the packages of Disprin and Panadeine from Bakura's fingers and laid them on the checkout. Against his shoulder he felt Bakura flinch at the high-pitched beeps the machine made as the operator scanned the barcodes.

"Do you want a bag?" The lady asked, and Malik shook his head. "That comes to ¥2000, please."

Malik checked in Bakura's wallet and saw that the yami had enough to cover it, though with not much left to spare. He handed over the money, took the receipt and put it in Bakura's wallet, then grabbed the packages and stuffed them all in the deep pockets of his leather jacket.

"Is he sick?" The checkout lady asked looking pointedly at Bakura slumped against him.

Malik smiled at her. "Nah, just a hangover." He replied in his deceptively sweet sounding 'Namu' voice. "I better get him home. Have a nice day."

The lady nodded at him, then turned to face the next customer.

"Hangover?" Bakura repeated as they made their way slowly out of the supermarket, somehow managing to avoid being jostled by the shopping crowd.

Malik shrugged as well as he could manage with the yami leaning against his shoulder. "She didn't need to know."

Bakura lifted his head and squinted at him. "Stupid hikari." He muttered.

Malik wasn't sure whether he should smile or frown. Instead he settled for neither and just tried to get Bakura out into the parking lot as quickly as he could.

"Maybe I should just carry you." He said.

"Do it and you die." Was Bakura's response. "So where's this Chemist?"

"About a block away." Malik replied, leading the white-haired yami over to where he'd parked his motorcycle. "We're going to have to take my bike. Think you can hold on?"

Bakura shrugged, sinking down against him as they came to a stop beside the bike.

Malik looked down at the yami. He was definitely losing his strength quickly, and the patch of light glowing under his shirt was beginning to flicker like the flame of a candle. The yami was even paler now, and his skin was shiny with sweat. "This isn't going to work." He said to himself. "Oh well…"

Digging underneath his jacket, he pulled free the Sen'nin Rod. Turning his head to survey the parking lot, he caught sight of a man in a business suit striding purposefully over to a shiny blue BMW. Concentrating, he released the power of the Rod, knocking back the man's mental defences and then invading his mind with his own.

"Mind slave." He said. Against him Bakura made a small gasping sound as the Ring flashed violently against his chest, responding to the use of another item.

"Yes, Master?" The businessman replied, turning to face him from across the distance. The man's face was blank, and Malik knew he had him.

"I wish for you to drive us to the Chemist."

"Yes, Master."

The shiny blue BMW, deep azure and with a custom hood ornament pulled up beside them barely thirty seconds later. Malik switched the Rod into his other hand that was wrapped around Bakura, and opened the cars rear door with his free hand. He helped Bakura in, keeping a firm grip on the ailing yami so that he didn't just collapse onto the backseat. Slipping in after him, he was mildly surprised to find the tomb robber putting on his seat belt. The yami must have caught his confused look, for he attempted to shoot him another glare.

"I'm already sick." He said. "If there's an accident I don't need this body to be dead."

Malik shook himself out of his surprise and smiled, nodding, then put his own seatbelt on, clicking it secure at his hip. Turning to face the driver he felt a worried scowl twist at his brows. "Mind slave, get a move on." He ordered.

"Yes, Master." The businessman replied, and the car lurched forwards.

There was a gasp from beside him and Malik turned quickly to see Bakura hunched over as far as the seatbelt would allow him, a hand pressed hard against his stomach, pushing in the curve he could see by the folds of his T-shirt.

"You okay?" He asked quickly, made even more worried by the small rivulet of blood that was working its way down from where the yami had bitten his lip.

Bakura gave him yet another hard stare, but kept his teeth clenched on his lip.

Malik smiled grimly. "Yeah, stupid question." He said. "Mind slave! Drive more carefully."

"Yes, Master."

The following minute was travelled in silence, filled only with the passing shop windows reflecting the sunlight into the car, and the glances the tomb keeper kept throwing at the panting yami, not bothering to keep them hidden from the white-haired spirit.

With a quiet squeak of brakes and suspension, the car rolled to a slow stop. Malik looked outside of the window and saw the Chemist that he had told Bakura about earlier. Casting a quick glance back at the spirit of the Ring, noting the skin of his face turning an off-yellow and the hands clamped to his mouth and wrapped around his stomach, he had barely a second to react; grabbing the spirit and dragging him free of the seatbelt and out of the vehicle in time for him to vomit into the gutter.

Bakura's body lurched in his arms as he threw up, making horrible gasping noises between heaves. Malik could only grit his teeth and hold back Bakura's hair until he had finished. It was short-lasting, and after a few deep gasps and a clearing of the throat, the white-haired yami sat back. His face was now dreadfully white, almost translucent, and the skin beneath his eyes was damp with tears. Malik helped him back into his seat and told him to stay in the car.

"I'll go and get the medicine. You sit back and do nothing, got it?"

Bakura opened his eyes, the feverish red irises fixing on his face with wavering strength. Slowly, he nodded, then swallowed convulsively. A disgusted look passed over his face afterwards, and Malik added another thing to his shopping list.

"I'll get something to get rid of the taste, too." He said. "Open a window; it'll help to cool you down."

Bakura nodded again and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest.

"Guess my hikari did eat something." He rasped out, then cleared his throat. "Hurry up. My mouth tastes disgusting."

Malik hesitated at the car door, looking inside at the sick spirit slumped against the backseat, hands wrapped protectively around his stomach and head tipped back, exposing the long white length of throat. For a moment Malik battled within himself, the sudden urge to stay in the car with Bakura almost overpowering his need to help him. Looking at the spirit again, noticing for the first time the cracked and dry lips and the small shudders that racked his body, his concern won out over his desire, and he quickly turned back to the chemist. He closed the car door after him, just to place a barrier between him and his temptation. His foolish crush on the white-haired spirit was choosing a stupid time to grow deeper on him, but there was just something about seeing the usually strong and independent tomb robber ailing and in need of help that sent what little common sense he had scurrying off for places unknown. He couldn't think with the yami looking so needful in the car.

Enough of that. He needed to get Bakura some medicine – that fever that was raging through his body was going to kill him if he couldn't get it down.

With one last look back at the car, Malik turned and marched into the chemist. Striding right up to the prescription/medicine counter at the back, he took a firm grip of the Sen'nin Rod and thrust his will into the mind of the woman behind the counter.

"Master." She said.

Malik didn't feel the urge to smirk; a frown was on his lips instead. "I wish for some ibuprofen and any other medicines that will bring down fevers fast."

"Yes, Master."

"Quickly."

Just under three minutes later he was striding back to the car, a paper bag filled with plastic containers of pills stuffed into one of his jackets many pockets. Inside the bag there was also a travel tube of toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a small bottle of bright blue mouthwash. Malik was now almost certain that his black leather jacket couldn't hold anymore. There wasn't even any room for his Rod, so he had it stuffed under his belt. The staff slapped against his thigh as he walked, but he didn't really care.

Reaching the car, he pulled open the door and quickly slid inside, his vinyl pants squeaking against the leather seat as he slid over and pulled the door closed. He looked over to see how Bakura was doing to see the spirit had slumped over onto his side. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but Malik knew he was awake. His brows were furrowed, and his breathing was too fast for him to be asleep. Leaning over the spirit, he reached out with one of his hands and laid it against the pale and clammy forehead. Beneath his palm Bakura flinched, and the dangerously hot skin jolted back away from his touch.

"Bloody cold hands, Malik." Bakura muttered, still lying where he was and keeping his eyes stubbornly closed.

"That's because you're too bloody hot." Malik shot back, lifting Bakura's feet up onto his lap as he scooted over into the seat properly and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Mind slave, take us to 224-4101."

"Yes, Master."

The car started up again, and Bakura's body rolled slightly as the breaks were released and the car pushed forwards. He let out a groan and pulled his knees up, his feet falling from off of Malik's lap. Malik missed the weight on his legs, but his concern for the other spirit was more than enough to banish the small empty feeling.

"Your host's house is only a few streets away, isn't it? Shouldn't be too long." He said. The shaking spirit only curled up tighter and groaned again.

Malik exhaled slowly, almost a sigh, and his fingers twitched on his lap in an effort not to reach out and brush back the white hair from the spirit's face. Instead, he moved his hand to his hip and gripped the Rod that hung from his belt loops. Idly, he stroked the metal with his thumb, keeping his eyes on the white-haired yami's chest, monitoring its motions. Maybe he should be trying to get Bakura to a hospital… he knew the fever he had was bad enough to warrant it, but he also knew that the spirit of the Sen'nin Ring would not stand for it. Not that he could stand right now anyway, had he wanted to or not.

With a low moan the object of his thoughts, worries, and affections curled up tighter, flinging an arm above his head. The spirit looked about ready to pass out, and Malik noted that while he had been in the chemist Bakura must have partially unbuttoned his shirt, as some of the incredibly pale skin on his chest was partially revealed. He felt his breath catch at the sight of that small triangle of white skin, stark against the dark blue edges of his shirt.

"224, was it, Master?" The voice of the businessman interrupted, jolting him from his sudden arousal.

"What?" He snapped, a sharp barb of anger in his voice.

"We're on 4101. Is the house number 224?"

Malik's brows creased as he thought for a moment to reaffirm the Bakura's house address. "Yes." He said. "224."

"Then we're here, Master." And the car rolled to another slow stop.

"Bakura," Malik started, glancing outside the window to make sure that it was Bakura's house they were parked outside of.

"I heard." The white-haired yami replied, his voice a great deal weaker than what Malik recalled hearing in the supermarket. Most certainly a far cry from the spirit's usual strong husk. Malik watched as slowly, Bakura sat up, and he found himself half reaching out to the yami before stopping himself and drawing his hands back. Now upright again, the spirit began to sway. He groaned again, his head still hanging down, and he reached out to grab Malik's shoulder instead. "Help me out." He husked, his fingers gripping tight.

"Wait here." Malik ordered the businessman, then turned and gripped Bakura's elbow, his arm crossed around his back. "All right."

Slowly, they began to edge across the back seat until Malik was out and helping to support Bakura as he swung his feet down onto the pavement and attempted to stand. 'Attempted' was the appropriate word, too, for as soon as he had straightened, his legs buckled beneath him and he was almost borne to the ground. Only Malik's arm around his back kept him from falling.

"You alright?" Malik asked.

Bakura nodded, and once his vision had stopped swimming he relaxed his death grip on Malik's shoulder and took a halting step forward towards his front door. As soon as his heel struck the pavement his other leg gave way beneath his weight again and Malik didn't bother to steady him this time. Stooping, he scooped his other arm up behind Bakura's knees and swept him up into his arms.

Bakura gasped, startled, and closed his eyes against the smearing of the world around him. He could feel Malik's arms around his back and under his knees, and with a burning humiliation in his gut along with the building nausea; he realized that Malik was now carrying him in that stupid way those lovesick fools carried the women in those romance movies his hikari's father liked to watch. Through his mortification he managed a groan.

"This is fucking embarrassing," He grumbled, his hand curling protectively around his stomach as he hung limply in Malik's arms. "Can't possibly get any worse."

"Umm…" Was Malik's hesitant-sounding reply.

Slitting open his eyes, Bakura looked up to see the blonde tomb keeper looking away, a slightly annoyed expression adorning what he could see of his face. Lifting his head a little, he followed the other Egyptian's gaze, and what he saw made him groan in anticipation of the utmost humiliation.

"Shit." He muttered, dropping his head back against Malik's arm, and then realizing it to be a stupid thing to have done when his vision jolted and swum alarmingly and his stomach did a violent lurch beneath his hand. Immediately his mouth was flooded with bitter saliva. "I'm going to be sick…" He managed to groan out before his stomach rebelled again and he tried to fling himself out of Malik's arms. Malik held onto him tightly, however, and he couldn't roll free. Abruptly, the sky and buildings swirled around him and he found himself suspended above an open drain, his hair pulled back from his face as his shoulders began to heave and he threw up once again.

He was vaguely aware as he coughed his guts out into the drain of the Pharaoh's light running up beside them. And where there was the Pharaoh's hikari, there also was, unfortunately, the Pharaoh. And the Pharaoh was the last person Bakura ever wanted to see him like this. To add shame onto the humiliation; he felt pained tears begin to track their way down his cheeks.

"Damn it," He gasped between coughs. "Damn it."

"Oh, geeze, Bakura, are you alright?" The short hikari asked, obvious concern lacing his words. Bakura didn't know how he expected him to answer the question, throwing up like he was.

"Of course he's not all right!" He heard Malik say. "He's throwing up, for Ra's sake!"

"I'm sorry," He heard the hikari say. "I'm just… Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just open the front door, will you?"

Malik sounded irritated, and Bakura wondered again for the numerous time that afternoon just why the pale-haired hikari was bothering to help him.

"It's unlocked." He heard the Pharaoh's small hikari comment.

"Even better," Malik said from above him. "Saves me breaking it in."

"Would you have?" Yuugi sounded startled.

Bakura heard Malik grunt, and the grip on his hair shifted. "No doubt in my mind."

Bakura closed his eyes again and tried to process everything that had happened, having immense difficulty as the dry heaves just wouldn't stop. He spat and cleared his throat, then heaved again. By now there was nothing left in his stomach, yet his body kept insisting on bringing up things that were not there. He was so exhausted that he just hung in Malik's arms like sack of potatoes, too weary to support even his own head.

After a while the paroxysmal heaving died down, and Bakura thought it safe enough to cough and swallow, trying to ignore the foul taste of the remnants left in his mouth.

"You finished now?" Malik asked him.

Somehow Bakura managed a nod. This time the world moved a lot more slowly around him as he was turned back around in Malik's arms, the blonde Egyptian tomb keeper's face and that of the Pharaoh's light's coming into focus like a slow approaching wave.

"You look like shit, tomb robber." The voice that issued out of the small hikari's mouth was far too deep.

Bakura squinted up at the spiked-haired figure. "B'ka P'ro…" he muttered darkly, recognizing instantly the former ruler of Egypt, despite his blurry vision. "Throw up on you…" He threatened.

Yami smiled. "Whatever." He said. "Get him inside, Malik, before he dies a second time."

Bakura heard Malik growl at the other spirit, but was being moved barely a second later, and the ringing in his ears drowned out Malik's reply.

The light dimmed around him as he was carried inside. He could hear both Malik's and Yami's footsteps as they crossed the bare wooden floorboards of the foyer, Malik's naturally heavier due to his added weight Malik was carrying. Then the sounds thickened, stuffing his ears full and sounding loud and dull inside of his head before fading away, along with them whatever voices had started up again, and things blurred into a mess of grey for a while. Bakura couldn't make much sense of anything within that colourless mass that surrounded him. Occasionally something would shift within it, noticeable only for its lighter or darker shading, and Bakura would try to follow it with his eyes but to no avail. When everything came back into focus and proper hearing was restored to his ears, Bakura found himself in the upstairs bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat as Malik washed his face with a warm cloth. He blinked dazedly, confused, and the pale-haired hikari smirked at him.

"Feel up to brushing your teeth?" He asked him.

Once again Bakura became uncomfortably aware of the rancid taste of bile in his mouth. It wasn't as strong as before, but still enough to make him cringe each time that he swallowed. Carefully, he nodded.

He could barely keep his jaws apart as he ran the toothbrush over his teeth, scrubbing at them with as much vigour as he could muster, which was shamefully very little. At the end of it his arm hurt - and his jaws - and the inside of his cheeks stung from the powerful cleansing from the mouthwash. But at least his mouth didn't taste of vomit anymore.

He was startled when a pair of arms came around him, locking around his shoulders and under his knees, and he was lifted up off of the toilet seat into the arms of Malik. Things started to go grey again, and were blurred and out of focus for a time that seemed to stretch on endlessly. Senseless bolts of colour started to shoot through the grey this time, but Bakura didn't even bother to try to follow them with his eyes. They were moving far too fast and he was so sluggishly slow.

When time and vision returned to normal again Bakura realized that he was being moved, and that Malik was speaking to him.

"-when the pharaoh managed to get some of the medicine into you. It looked like you were going to bite his fingers off for a moment, but you swallowed the pills rather easily. Didn't think you would be so placid while out of it."

Bakura glared up at him, and Malik smirked, turning sideways as he entered a room.

"You're going to have to take some more in about three hours. Yuugi's going to stay to wake you up for your next dose."

Bakura glared again, then blinked when he was lowered down onto a bed. He then realized that he was in Ryou's bedroom. He didn't bother to ask Malik how he knew where it was, though - it was probably the same way he knew where they lived and where the upstairs bathroom was. A flood of helplessness rushed through him as Malik pulled his shoes off, dropping them onto the floor beside the bed; then followed quickly by a surge of anger as the blankets were drawn up over him.

"Baka hikari." He muttered.

Malik stopped tucking him in and looked at him, an odd expression on his dark face.

"I've been meaning to ask," He started. "Are you saying that all hikari's are stupid, or just yours?"

Bakura looked a little startled at the question, blinking his feverish red eyes in puzzlement. The expression was soon gone, though, and the eyes closed tiredly.

"Just mine." The sick yami replied after a while. "Baka pharaoh's midget hikari has huge chibi-eyes, a deeper voice than the priest, and a bondage fetish. He's weird. And you…" Bakura slitted open one eye, fixing it steadily on the dark-skinned tomb keeper. "You **made** your own yami. That makes you insane."

"You don't think much of hikari's, do you?" Malik asked.

"Don't think much of anybody." The yami replied quietly, allowing his eye to fall closed again.

Malik looked at him and sighed. "You will of me." He said quietly to himself.

"What?" Bakura asked sleepily.

Malik smiled, even though the tomb robber's eyes were closed and he couldn't see it.

"Never mind." He told him, daring to reach out and brush the white bangs back from his eyes. "I expect you to pay me back for all my help when your body is better."

"Whatever…" Bakura murmured, rubbing his cheek into the pillow.

Malik looked at him for a moment, his lavender eyes taking in the pale skin and hair, and the dark slash of the yami's lashes stark against his cheeks. He didn't hesitate long. Bending down, he pressed a light, chaste kiss onto the tomb robber's lips, holding it for a few moments before pulling back.

"Mmmm…" the spirit replied, rolling over onto his side and passing completely into sleep. In a matter of moments his breathing was even and slow, and he was deeply asleep.

Malik watched him breathe for a few minutes longer, then cursing his stupid infatuation, left the sleeping yami's bedchamber and walked down the stairs. He passed the pharaoh's hikari who had resumed control, and nodding to him, left the house.

Pulling himself into the backseat of the BMW, he put on his seatbelt and sighed.

"The supermarket, mind slave." He ordered wearily.

"Yes, Master." The man replied, and the car pulled away from the curb and rolled down the road. Bakura's house was out of view not ten seconds later.

* * *

**End Chapter One**

* * *

A/N: This is only a three-part fic, but there will possibly be an epilogue as well. No telling yet, but it will be small. 

1 – Malik sounds a little like a Pharmaceutical ad, doesn't he?

2 – Aysa means 'doctor' in Hebrew, I think. -- Bakura can just speak Arabic as well as Egyptian and Japanese.

* * *

Sneak Preview of Interlude:

_He could hear Yami saying something in his head. Or over his shoulder. Wherever it was coming from sounded pretty far away, and pretty peeved, but somehow all Yuugi could really understand from his surroundings was that Bakura had him in a surprisingly strong grip for someone who was supposed to be deathly ill, and that his lips tasted an awful lot like honey._

Cabbitshivers: Go the me!

Bakura Muse: I think the shadow realm is starting to look more and more attractive.

Cabbitshivers: There's another chapter after that one, you know. And then a little bit of an epilogue.

Bakura Muse: (sighing) It'll turn into the prologue for another section, won't it?

Cabbitshivers: (Nodding regretfully) More than likely. And I hate format. Forever. It sucks.


	2. Interlude

--------------------------------------------- i n t e r l u d e ---------------------------------------------

* * *

Soft ticking from a clock and the crackling of a fire were the only sounds in the house. The lights were on a low setting, casting the room and its one occupant in a soft mellow glow.

Yuugi sighed, and glanced up from the table he was bent over, looking across at the clock on top of the mantelpiece. It was a skeleton clock, encased in a glass dome with all of its cogs and insides showing. The hour and minute hands on the flat face glowed in the flickering light coming from the fire beneath it, and they told the time to be at seven twenty-five in the evening. In another five minutes he would have to go upstairs and wake the spirit of the Ring so he could take his next dose of medication.

Looking back down at the puzzle he was doing, he cast a slightly desolate, yet hopeful look over the jumbled mess of puzzle pieces gathered into colour-piles and spread all over the table at his knees. It was a difficult one – one thousand pieces of an intricate picture he'd found on a bookshelf in the Bakura's library. So far he had only managed to do the edges and most of one corner. It was hard, yes, but surely a far cry easier than waking an ill-feeling sociopath with shadow-powers.

'_If you don't want to do it, aibou, allow me to._' A familiar voice spoke up within his mind.

A flash of light emanated from the Puzzle he wore around his neck, and then the ghostly image of his own darkness appeared beside him.

Yuugi smiled and shook his head. "It's all right, Yami." He replied. "I told Malik I'd do it, and he's not really that frightening right now."

'_I don't know, aibou_.' Answered the ancient pharaoh with a worried frown on his lips. '_He_ did _try to bite off my finger._'

Yuugi giggled at the indignant tone his darker half had used. "That's because you were shoving a bitter-tasting pill down his throat. If you were doing that to me I would have tried to bite you, too."

The pharaoh crossed his arms. '_Surely it didn't have that foul of a taste_.' He commented.

"You've obviously never needed to taste one before." His hikari answered. "They go down a heap better if you crush them up in honey, you know."

'_Next time I'll take that into account_.'

Yuugi let free another quiet giggle as he fitted into place a particularly odd-shaped puzzle piece. It was easy to find due to its unusual cut, but the image it bore was completely unidentifiable. Yuugi wasn't sure, but he thought that it could possibly be part of the figure's hair, but seeming that he'd chosen to work without the image on the box, he didn't really know for sure. Frowning, he glanced over the similar-coloured pieces he'd grouped at his elbow for the next piece to slot in, but couldn't immediately locate it.

A dark thought lurking in his mind pushed its way to the front. "Bakura's really sick, isn't he?" He asked, systematically going through the pieces that looked the right shape.

Beside him he could hear the ghostly sigh of his darker half.

'_Yes._' Yami answered, his voice solemn, but not distressed. '_If it's affecting the thief this badly, even with the aid of the Ring, it's dangerous. If it were just Ryou he would most likely be dead already._'

Yuugi nodded, face echoing a cringe that twisted his heart and shot a pang of insensible fear through his gut. "I thought so," He said quietly, putting aside the piece he was holding. His eyes flicked up to read the clock. Seven twenty-eight. "Do you think the pills that Malik got will work?"

A log on the fire popped, sending up a spark that was quickly grabbed by the rising air in the flue.

'_Aibou, they're your modern-day medicines. I have no idea how they'll work against this sickness the tomb-robber's hikari has._'

"So they might not."

'_I didn't say that, Yuugi._'

"No. I know you didn't." Suddenly standing, Yuugi let out a sigh and twitched his shoulders lightly. "Guess I better fix the medicine up. I'll show you how to crush it and mix it with the honey."

Yami made a soft sound beside him and rose to follow. He watched closely as Yuugi mixed the ingredients together, listening to him as he explained the merits of making the medicine sweeter and smoother to swallow. He wasn't surprised when Yami didn't return to his spirit room as he left the kitchen. He knew how curious the ancient Pharaoh could be, and no doubt wanted to witness the administering of this slightly modified medicine to the ailing tomb robber with his own eyes. Together they climbed the stairs up to the second floor landing, and Yami waited, almost impatiently, Yuugi thought, as he opened the door to Ryou's bedroom.

The first thing that imprinted on him was the smell.

"Smoked ham." He said, almost unconsciously.

'_What?_' Yami asked from slightly behind him.

Yuugi turned to him slightly. "It's the smell of sick people." He replied. "When I was a kid one of my friends had cancer, and she always smelled like smoked ham. Ever since then, sick people have always smelt like that to me."

Yami just stared at him. '_You are very strange, aibou._'

Yuugi shrugged and quirked his lips. "Having a ghost like you in my head certainly qualifies me for that comment," He replied. "Now, to try and wake him up…"

'_Careful aibou._'

"Don't worry, Yami, I'll be fine."

Thumbing the light switch as he went by it, pleased to note that the light cast by the bulb above was weak and frosted, he approached the bed, eyes taking in the mass of white hair just a little too long and a little too messy to belong to Ryou. Yuugi felt a small rush of warmth at the fact that Bakura still maintained control. It meant that he was sparing Ryou the effects of the sickness, and Yuugi sort of liked him for that.

Leaning over the curled up figure in the bed, not quite trusting his newfound warm-fuzzy feelings for Bakura, he reached out with his unoccupied hand and gently shook the ancient tomb robber's shoulder. "Bakura," He said quietly. "Bakura, wake up…"

The embodied spirit stirred beneath Yuugi's hand, mumbled something incoherent, and then settled again. Yuugi shook his shoulder more vigorously a second time and repeated Bakura's name louder. This time the body rolled over completely, blearily opening one dark red eye and questioning in a sleep-slurred voice something which didn't make much sense at all to Yuugi.

"Ma korê?"

"Time for your medicine, Bakura."

The tomb robber just made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and blinked his other eye open sleepily. Yuugi waited for another response, but Bakura just looked unfocusedly up at him.

'_He must still be ah, "zoned out", as Malik put it._'

"So what do I do?"

'_Just give it to him yourself. He was pretty docile the other time he was like this._'

"You think it will work?"

'_Only one way to find out._'

Yuugi shrugged and looked back down at the spirit. He was blinking slowly, obviously having difficulty trying to keep his eyes open. Yuugi thought he might get his hand metaphorically slapped for this notion later, but he though it made the tomb robber look kind of cute. It certainly took away the edge of 'psycho-killer' his features normally carried. And the fever-flush to his cheeks almost made him look like he was blushing.

Yanking his contemplations away from that line of thinking, Yuugi decided that maybe it was safe enough to sit on the edge of the bed after all. Bakura's wandering eyes shifted back to him at the small jolt his weight settling caused, still heavy-lidded and a little unfocused, and Yuugi shifted the spoon in his grip.

"Could you open your mouth, please, Bakura."

The red eyes looked at him dazedly for a moment, blinked, and then to Yuugi's surprise Bakura's lips parted and he opened his mouth.

'_See?_' Yami smirked from behind him.

Yuugi couldn't see the ancient Pharaoh's mouth, but he knew the smirk was there all the same.

"Scary." He said. Bakura just looked at him. "Okay, um… Bakura, I mixed your medicine with honey. It's on a spoon so you're going to have to lick it off, okay?"

Bakura didn't make any motion that he understood, but he hadn't before when he'd asked him to open his mouth, so Yuugi just trusted that it would work and slipped the bowl of the spoon into the ancient thief's mouth. As soon as it touched his tongue, Bakura's lips closed around its stem.

Yuugi couldn't help but blush as he felt through the metal of the spoon Bakura's tongue begin to work around it, and the tug as he sucked the mix into his throat. Unbidden, dirty thoughts crossed his mind, fuelled by the image of Bakura's heavy-lidded eyes and flushed face, the intimacy of the situation hitting him so suddenly he gasped.

'_Aibou?_'

Yuugi jumped. "Um, yeah. Yeah, he's taking it."

'_Told you so.'_

"Yeah." Yuugi's face flamed. Quickly, he averted it, finding a picture on the dresser to look at until the sensory-heightening motions felt through the spoon stopped altogether. Only then did he turn back to look at Bakura, whose eyes had fallen closed again. Gently, he pulled the spoon out from Bakura's mouth, the spirit's lips sealing back together as it left them, clean and shiny with saliva.

"Thank you, Bakura." He said, looking at the spirit for a moment longer before moving to stand. A hand on his arm stopped him, however. Yuugi looked down to find Bakura's eyes were open again, looking up at him, though still dazed and unfocused.

"Toda." He said clearly.

Yuugi blinked, confused. "What?"

"Shavur me'od hadẹlet."

Yuugi shook his head. "You should go back to sleep, Baku-mmph!"

Yuugi blinked, tried to make sense of the white and cream mess in front of his eyes, processed where his lips were, and then blinked again.

He could hear Yami saying something in his head. Or over his shoulder. Wherever it was coming from sounded pretty far away, and pretty peeved, but somehow all Yuugi could really understand from his surroundings was that Bakura had him in a surprisingly strong grip for someone who was supposed to be deathly ill, and that his lips tasted an awful lot like honey.

'_Of course they taste like honey!_' He heard Yami yell. '_You just gave him some!_'

Oh yeah, Yuugi thought. The medicine.

Suddenly, the pull keeping him face down against Bakura lifted, and Yuugi found himself able to sit up. His eyes followed the white head of the embodied spirit as it fell back onto the pillows.

"Hakẹlev ratuv al sheli begadîm…" Bakura said, closing his eyes. He mumbled something else incoherent and then rolled back over onto his side. He sighed heavily, and fell quiet.

'_Aibou,_' Yami said, voice strained and juddering slightly with either anger or laughter. Yuugi wasn't sure which.

"Yes, Yami?"

'_Next time I'm_ _giving him the medicine._'

Yuugi looked over at where the transparent spirit stood in the bedroom doorway. A few silent moments passed before Yuugi blushed again, and then laughed quietly when Yami realized what it was exactly that he'd just said.

'_Not like that!_' The spirit huffed. '_It's just that… You… The tomb robber… with the spoon…_' He spluttered. Yuugi's laughter progressed into guffaws he kept painfully silent, his small hand clamped to his mouth. He didn't want to wake Bakura again, chances were he wouldn't be so… nice the next time.

A scowl crossed Yami's face. '_Well, my way was better._' He said.

Yuugi just shook his head and stood. Bakura made no motion as Yuugi's weight left the bed, and Yuugi surmised that he had fallen back to sleep. He could hear Yami muttering about something to himself as he walked with him back down to the lounge, but whatever it was was in Egyptian, and Yuugi still hadn't gotten around to learning it, despite the advantages it would give in his situation.

Idly, he fingered the spoon in his hand as he entered into the kitchen. Then, recalling where it had been, blushed furiously and quickly put it into the sink. Bakura's mouth was the last thing he wanted to be thinking about now. What he needed was something to take his mind off of it.

Sighing and shaking his head, he wondered at Yami's silence, then realized that he had returned to his spirit room. He grabbed a glass of water, intent to return back to his puzzle. But first he had to call his grandfather. Until Bakura's fever broke, he was still in need of watching.

Yami was definitely waking up Bakura next time, Yuugi decided.

"Hi, grandpa? Yeah. I'm at Bakura Ryou's…"

--------------------------------------------- t h e - e n d ---------------------------------------------

* * *

Sneak Preview of Next Chapter:

_It was like the kiss five nights ago. Warm, soft… and completely boring. Bakura wasn't kissing him back and he felt hollow and naked just doing it on his own. Disappointed, he pulled back, and a pang of something quick and sharp cut in his chest as the heat and pressure of Bakura's lips left his own. Even though the spirit hadn't returned his kiss, the feel of having him so close was still something he didn't want to let go of. Gathering courage to face the spirit, he slitted open his eyes, and what he was met with wasn't one of the outcomes he had run through in his mind before he had kissed him the second time._

_Bakura's eyes were full… of tears._

* * *

Cabbitshivers: I'm not sure I'm going to manage this.  
Bakura Muse: You're getting excited, aren't you?  
Cabbitshivers: Yeah. sighs That's the problem. Now it's too good and I just KNOW I'm going to screw it up.  
Bakura Muse: Want me to make an appointment?  
Cabbitshivers: Nodding sadly Yes, please.  
Bakura Muse: On the phone Hello, yes. For Doctor Shigeo. Cabbitshivers. See, Ay, double-bee, Eye, Tee… 


End file.
